Tribute
That motherfucker Jess Harvell said what I wanted to say, damn it:
Not every post was a work of genius; not every post had to be. This is the fine line blogs walk in general, between “quality” and off-the-cuff, the blurred line between the two being where much of the interest comes from. My own NYLPM posts were uniformly awful; I was just plain learning how to write. But I just appreciated the forum to be a fool in public, to be a part of an argumentative, intelligent community. And yeah, that matters.
When I found out Tom was closing up shop, I got a llittle choked up. Or misty-eyed. Or whatever you want to call it. I’ll admit, I lost touch w/ the blog in recent times, probably soon after I stopped being a regular contributor, but (for whatever reason) I always had it in the back of my mind to return. And now I can’t. If I was feeling especially maudlin, I’d go off on a boring tangent relating this “you can’t go home” feeling to what I’ll feel when my childhood home goes on the market. Except that Mom selling my house will involve me doing lots of moving and painting and cleaning - those bittersweet warm fuzzies will fade away quicklike once I throw out my back saying sayonara to ten years of Ranger Rick.
Yeah, I feel the same way about most of my NYLPM contributions as Jess does about his - for the most part, holy shit they’re bad. But they’re also represent the one moment during my whoop-dee-doo music writing career where I was having loads of fun. A lot of it had to do w/ that sense of community, & showing off for an audience, & just flouncing around in general. But there was also that novel sense of personal discovery, tearing down the walls of anti-pop hegemony and feeling the freedom that comes with knowing I can buy a Top 40 hip-hop CD at Circuit City without fearing bloody leather-clad reprisal from Thee Punk Police. (I was a trip in my early 20s, no doubt about it.)
But, of course, It Was Different Then. Nowadays, the music bloggoBuckyBall is chock-full of participants of all stripes and grammatical acumen and payscales, with a shitload of professional folks infiltrating a domain that was once strictly Amateurs Only. The doors blew off the joint a long time ago; what used to be a quaint little house party has spread down every street imaginable. And part of the fun (for me, in hindsight) was that insularity. Sure, I was this guy in New England sharing textspace with a guy from England I’ve never met, it felt like I was just shooting the shit with a long-time pal.
A pal, by the way, that has this fantastic ability to phrase his thoughts in this casually confident manner that continues to floor me. Like anyone could actually tackle THE BEATLES and have something new to say, and say it so well:
Intentionally or not, “Eleanor Rigby” and “Yellow Submarine” make a perfect pair. Crushing isolation as the flip of a song that values limitless community - “And my friends are all aboard / Many more of them live next door”. The one set in a drably recognizable town, the other in a fantasy utopia. Recital and singalong. It strikes me that the idea of singing along - with friends, or in costume, or to mantras, or on a worldwide satellite link - is a thread in much later Beatles music. For me though, this big-hearted single is the best expression of what made them great.
Motherfucking Tom Ewing. You beautiful bastard.
Anyway, this is supposed to be a half-ass testimonial to NYLPM, not to Tom - he’s still kicking out knowledge, just not in a groop-blog fashion.
To be honest (and to talk about myself some more): when I heard the news of NYLPM’s cessation, I initially wanted to start my own like-minded group blog that encapsulated the insight & irreverence that its precedesor, on its best days, possessed in spades. Then I realized that if I really wanted to carry on said blog’s good work, it’d behoove me to first attempt to embody said insight & irreverence in my own writing. And on a more regular schedule.
So, yeah - if you don’t like what I say from this point forward, it’s Tom’s fault. Thanks, Tom!